


Stylish

by dedkake



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik have a discussion about hair and helmets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stylish

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Stylish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412618) by [Diannaisafreeelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diannaisafreeelf/pseuds/Diannaisafreeelf)



> [Wrote this a million years ago on the kink meme](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/9701.html?thread=21327333#t21327333), way back when we got [the very first set pic](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BJ2mLeWCMAACggy.jpg) of James for DOFP with zero context for it. I figured, in light of a shiny new Charles, now was the time to bring this over here to remember his beautiful hair.

“We need to talk,” Erik says, propping himself up on his elbow. Charles considers very seriously the possibility of rolling off the bed to escape from Erik’s cool gaze. But they have a routine, and at least once during their trysts, they talk—and Charles will respect that.

“I believe it’s your turn to start,” Charles says, adjusting himself so he’s mirroring Erik’s position. It’s always better to do this face to face.

Drawing in a deep breath, Erik says, “Your hair.”

Charles stares at him, blinking a few times as he tries to adjust to the topic. “My hair?” he asks slowly, pulling at the thought in Erik’s mind because he needs to know if Erik is serious.

He is.

“You’ve let it get out of hand,” Erik says, reaching out to pull on a strand.

“It’s stylish,” Charles says, knocking Erik’s hand away. “Even the kids think so.”

Erik snorts derisively. He rolls so that he’s on top of Charles, burying his fingers in Charles’ hair. “It looks better shorter,” he says, pushing Charles’ hair back from his face, tight against his skull.

Charles wrinkles his nose, but lets Erik play with his hair—it feels nice. “I wouldn’t expect you to keep up with fashion,” he says because he never misses a chance to snipe at _Magneto_.

“You’d probably look better bald,” Erik says with a smirk, laying his hands flat on the sides of Charles’ face.

“Shut up,” Charles grumbles, shaking his head free. Erik laughs and drops his hands to the pillow beside Charles’ head.

“This, though,” he says, his voice deep and rumbling as his lips drag across the scruff on Charles’ cheek. “This I like.”

Charles smiles, willing to forgive Erik easily enough. He turns for a kiss. “Should I use that as justification, when people ask? Magneto likes my beard, so I’m growing it?” he asks against Erik’s lips.

Smiling and trailing warm kisses down Charles’ jaw, Erik says, “How would your X-Men like that?”

“I think they’d find it preferable to _lover_ , don’t you?” Charles asks, reaching up to run his fingers through Erik’s hair, which is greying quite beautifully.

With a final kiss, Erik settles himself gently over Charles, tangling their fingers together as he rests his head next to Charles’ on the pillow. “Why not both? They must know by now.”

“If they didn’t know before, I’m sure they at least suspect something after I wore that shirt today,” Charles says, nodding vaguely in the direction of their discarded clothing.

Erik laughs again and says, “I’ve seen your wardrobe, Charles, and that shirt isn’t anything out of the ordinary.”

Charles pouts. “I bought that shirt because I thought it matched you,” he says, sending along an image of how much that shirt does stick out in his closet, a spot of bright color among a sea of grey and blue and white.

“I like it,” Erik says, mind already swirling with the thought of Charles and himself wearing matching outfits as they face down the world.

“I knew you would,” Charles says softly, pulling Erik’s hand up to kiss it. “Honestly, though,” he continues after a moment, “it’s atrocious.”

Erik glares, his fingers tightening threateningly around Charles’ hand. Charles tries not to laugh.

“I don’t see how you think purple and red match,” he says. Given Erik’s affinity for the colors, he’s glad that Erik’s room is decorated in sensible greys and blacks rather than the garish reds that he’s sure Erik prefers.

Twisting his fingers free, Erik pushes himself back up on his elbows. His fingers sink into Charles’ hair again with a delicious tug and he says, “I’ll stop wearing them if you cut your hair.”

“I’ll cut my hair when you stop wearing that helmet,” Charles snaps back immediately. Even if it would be an easy fix to the disaster of Erik’s outfits, Charles will be damned if he lets anyone control his hair.

Pressing their foreheads together, Erik says, “I’m not wearing my helmet right now.” Everything about the tone of voice and the flavor is his mind is deep and promising.

“You wouldn’t be in bed with me if you were,” Charles says, tipping his head up so his lips brush Erik’s.

Erik falls into the kiss, drawing it out into something long and slow, like they don’t have to leave this room in a few hours. When he pulls back, staring down into Charles’ eyes, he asks, “So I can cut your hair?”

“No,” Charles says with a short laugh that feels like it’s been punched from his chest. He reaches up to twist his fingers in Erik’s hair again. “But you can kiss me again.”

So he does.


End file.
